Acquiescence
by Salvation Lee
Summary: A brief glimpse into one girl's harrowing life and the sacrifices she was forced to make. Rated T for language and suggestive themes.


**I do not own** _ **The Hunger Games**_ **or any of the characters that appear in Suzanne Collins' works.**

 _Blink._

I'm scared.

I hear the creaking of the ladder. Instinctively, my whole body tenses, my ears listening to the uneven footsteps slowly making their way up the wooden ladder to the tiny loft I have come to call mine. Shivering, I curl into a tight ball under the heavy wool blanket, holding my breath and silently waiting. Counting the footsteps slowly making their way toward me. Praying.

"Sally? You still awake, sweetheart?"

My breath comes rushing out in a muffled sigh. Peeking the top of my head out of the warmth of the nest I have made myself, I see a tall figure holding a faded green bundle attempting to step around the creakiest of the uneven floorboards. All shadow, until he lights the small candle on the nightstand. Illuminated, he uses his free hand to brush back strands of dark hair that have fallen out of his bun. His dark eyes find my blue ones, and a smile lights his face. "Hey, kiddo. Did I wake you?"

I shake my head slightly, hesitant to make any sound in fear that the monster will wake up. As if reading my mind, my brother sits down at the other end of the mattress and reaches down to ruffle my hair, saying, "Don't worry. He's out for the night."

Nodding, I gradually make my way out from under my blanket and into my brother's lap. "Hi, Pent."

"Sorry I was gone so long. I didn't mean to leave you alone for long. He didn't touch you, did he?" He reaches down and thumbs my most recent blemish - a deeper, jagged cut on my forehead.

I shake my head, dark hair falling into a shield around my face.

"Good." Brushing my hair aside, he lightly pecks the now scabbed-over cut. I make a face, squeezing my eyes shut and sticking out my tongue until I managed to coax a small chuckle out of my brother. "Cute, munchkin."

Ignoring his comment, I lean over, trying to get a good look at the tiny bundle he brought home with him. Pointing, I ask, "What is it?"

"Right. This." Reaching behind him, Pent picks up the bundle - a makeshift sack - reaches in with one hand, and pulls out two berry muffins and something shaped like a rough cylinder made of folded paper and tied string. "I know it's a bit early still, but I figured why not? I can't believe you're nearly six now. Happy early birthday, Sally."

He hands me the paper-and-string cylinder and patiently waits. I do nothing but stare at it, unbelieving, until finally, Pent says, "Well, what are you waiting for? Go ahead and open it."

Carefully untying the string and folding the paper back, I find four beautiful wax crayons. I recognize the colors from our adventures out in the forest - blue like the sky, red like the cardinal, green like the trees, and yellow like the sun. My smile is so wide, I feel like my face may rip in half. Hugging Pent, I whisper into his ear, "Thank you."

"Of course, kiddo. I love you." He hugs me back, holding me tightly. "Now you can color pictures of the ancient places full of magic we read about."

"And the animals, too?"

"Yes, the animals, too."

 _Blink._

I can't breathe.

I've been running for miles, and I still can't completely shake them off my tail. My legs are tingling, by body is covered in sweat, my throat is parched, and I hear nothing but the sound of my blood pumping through my veins. Despite this fatigue, I am infuriated at myself for giving into the temptation of fresh berries by the riverbank. I knew if I went to pick some, I would be seen. And I refuse to let them catch me. Fourteen is too young to die.

My leg gives out beneath my weight, and I know I can't go on much longer. Spotting thicker, taller trees a hundred yards away, I make a dash toward them, climbing the first I see that looks strong enough to hold my small, thin frame and not their bigger, more muscular builds.

The yelling and cursing that were once farther away now become louder and much more pronounced as they head closer and closer. Soon, they're close enough to make out their features, and I know they can see me as well as I can see them. Like predators stalking their prey, they circle the base of the tree I've climbed. They attempt to climb up, using any and all of their resources to help aid them, but to no avail.

This goes on for hours and hours. I can tell they're getting impatient. And honestly, who can blame them? Stranded prey is no fun if you can't play with it. And I was so sure I had won; they couldn't mess with me, and I can easily outwait these three.

Never was I so wrong.

Two days of agonizing torture dealt by way of word. Two days of cruel remarks, sickening threats, and disgusting scenarios thrown at me by these demons in the form of fellow human teenagers. Two eternal days of being reminded of where I am from, who I am, and what I have become.

One boy threatened to drag me out of the tree, beat me, and draw out my death in the most painful, gruesome way imaginable.

The girl reminded me of everything I have ever done - willingly or otherwise - that has been uprooted, twisted, and devoured by the media, as if this were all some sick sitcom.

The other boy offered me life if I would spend one night with him and show him to a good time.

I didn't mean to do it.

I didn't want to.

I had no choice.

I hope they all burn.

 _Blink._

I know what I must do.

Preparing to play my part in this war has been no easy task. I know what I must do. That is all I want to know. No matter which road I travel, it all ends the same.

Just let me spend my last night of near-peace in the most peaceful place I can find.

"Hey, Sally. I thought I might find you here."

I slowly peek my head out from under the wool blanket. Pent reaches out a hand to ruffle my hair, then sits at the other end of the mattress. Reaching his hands up, he takes his long, messy hair and ties it back. He looks older, much older than his thirty-two years, much more weary and worn. He shoots me a half-hearted smile. I know he dreads what is to come as much as I do. I can see it in his eyes.

"Are you ready?"

Despite the fact that that our world is about to turn upside down, despite the fact that we are about to commit terrible crimes, despite the fact that we could die tonight, I can't help but snort and roll my eyes. When Pent doesn't reply, I sit up and fix him with a sharp stare.

"Alright, fair point," he says at last, breaking under my gaze. "Shitty question. I mean, who the hell is prepared for war?"

"Who the hell?" I agree.

We sit in silence a little longer, neither of us wanting to disturb the quiet. My thoughts trail off to what I have been assigned to do. Lord knows I would rather die, but that would be too easy, now, wouldn't it? I've made my way up the ranks - from filthy strangers on the street to playboys with all money and no heart - so it only makes sense that I play the role one more time. After all, who else will ever get so close to taking down the most powerful, ruthless man this world has come to know?

My train of thought is broken by the melody of a familiar childhood nursery rhyme. Turning my gaze from the open window, I see Pent has his eyes fixed where mine just were. Without skipping a beat, he finishes whistling the melody and then points out the window at the stars. "You know what my favorite thing about teaching you how to whistle that rhyme was?"

Completely dumbfounded, I shake my head.

"I never knew exactly which song was going through your head. 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star'? 'The Alphabet Song'? 'Baa, Baa, Black Sheep'?" He tilts his head to look at me, then sighs. "I just realized what day it is. Happy sweet sixteen, Sally."

Suddenly, I don't want to play the hero anymore. I don't want to worry about making a stand, taking down our enemies, fighting for the greater good. I just want to be six years old again, wrapped tight in the strong arms of my big brother. With tears beginning to leak down my cheeks, I crawl over into Pent's lap, hugging him and living in the fantasy, if only for a moment.

"I love you so much, Sally. Never forget that."

"I love you, too, Pent. Forever and always."

 _Blink._

I'm screaming.

The pain is excruciating. I feel as if my body is being torn in half. I can't control the jerking motions, the cries of pain coming from my lips.

Make it stop.

God, please.

It hurts.

Make it stop….

"You know, in all my years of observing and interacting with you, I never would have picked you out to be the beggar."

That voice. I know it. And I know what it means.

I never did make it out.

I'm in hell.

With _him_.

Suddenly, the pain ceases. I feel myself collapse, water dripping down my body. To my horror, I realize that I have been restrained to this cold metal chair. I cannot move my limbs, cannot even lift my head to face my attackers.

I am blind, pathetic, broken.

"You can try and hide in your memories all you want, my dear child, but in the end, you will always wake back up to reality."

His sickeningly sweet voice drips honey laced with poison. I know he's right. But I also know that this was always the plan.

Deep, heavy thuds. His footsteps, crossing the room, slowly, menacingly, until at last, they stop by my right side. I hear his arm quickly sweep up and sense his guards backing down. Some sort of secret language passing between them all. No doubt he feels I am no longer a threat. And in my current situation, I'm no longer much of anything.

He leans down, cups my sharp chin into his big, meaty hand, and lifts my head up towards him. Though I can't see him, I can feel his breath, hot and sticky, run along my cheek and neck. "My dear Salvation. Such a promising name, and yet you still failed to rescue anyone, my dear."

His breath smells like blood.

"It's over, child. You took a risk, and you lost. Your comrades have lost."

I realize how cold I am.

"Give up the façade, my dear. We have won. You are helping no one."

His grip on my chin tightens. He's getting frustrated. Good. Maybe he'll snap my neck and leave me dead. A ghost of a smile crosses my face at the thought.

"Your uprising has been stopped. Your allies have all been captured or killed. You will cooperate with me. You will give me any and all information that pretty little head of yours holds. Do it, and I may yet decide to spare you."

If I had the energy, I would have laughed.

"You don't believe me. I understand. It is a lot to take in at a time such as this. But don't worry, my dear. I know just how to convince you."

I should have found something - anything - to use as a weapon that night. I had him in the palm of my hands. Sleeping like a baby.

"We found your brother. Stupid boy was too stubborn to retreat when his superiors commanded so. Not that retreating helped them any. No, instead he had to come and retrieve his precious little sister."

I should have choked him to death with my bare hands.

"Repentance. Another promising name. I'm afraid that, like you, he failed to live up to it."

I feel one last burst of energy come to my aid. Small, but just enough. Mustering my strength, I manage to jerk my chin out of his grasp, turn my head, and spit in the direction his voice emanates from. He recoils, and I know I've hit my mark.

A moment of tense silence. I silently revel in my victory. Then, before I can stop myself from doing so, I feel my lips form words, and hear my voice, hoarse from days of screaming and misuse, say, "Go to hell."

Another silent period. Then, "My dear, dear Salvation, I'm afraid that we are already there."

A tight yank. Something falls from my eyes. Blinding light. I feel myself tearing up, blinking my way through the pain. Something is thrown over me. Cold. Wet. Water.

My eyes adjust just enough to make out his form. Dressed in black, he stands ten feet away, staring me down with his black, snake-like eyes. With a nod, the guard to his left steps forward, attaching wires to my beaten and battered body. Stepping back to his place, his clone to the right comes forward, carrying something wrapped in a faded green bundle.

With a smile, my tormenter reaches into the bag and pulls out my brother's severed head.

A spark appears in the corner of my sight.

I scream.

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